


Thanks to the Thunder

by The_Forgotten_Nobody



Series: Thanks to the Thunder [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt d'Artagnan, M/M, a bit of Athos angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Forgotten_Nobody/pseuds/The_Forgotten_Nobody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he was going to do when they got back to Paris was get d’Artagnan a new horse. This one could obviously not be trusted. </p><p>A response to the first prompt given to me by rouldehadleyfraser on tumblr (JEAikman) </p><p>d’Artagnan and Athos get separated from the other two in a thunderstorm and d’Artagnan takes a nasty fall and gets a concussion and Athos has to get them both to shelter and make sure d’Art stays conscious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks to the Thunder

Luck was not on their side that day. The morning had been pleasant enough, as had early afternoon, but the moment they had set out on their task for the King the heavens had opened sending a cascade of water down upon them. They had been soaked in minutes and whilst that would not have been of much concern, just discomfort, late afternoon had seen the arrival of thunder and lightning.

The horses did not like this and though most of the group could keep a handle on theirs, one could not. d’Artagnan was not as used to his own horse as the rest were. They had not had as much time to get used to each other and bond, so his attempts to pacify his horse were for nought. He kept whinnying and shaking his head, much to the despair of d’Artagnan who just wanted this task over and done with so that they may find a nice inn to rest.

His friends had noticed his troubles and were very close to offering that he ride with one of them. This matter had to be completed within a certain time and d’Artagnan’s horse was going to make them late if it didn’t calm soon. However, before any of them could offer, thunder rumbled above, louder than it ever had previously and lightning crackled in the air. That was the last straw for d’Artagnan’s horse, which ignored the commands of its rider and took off into the forest in completely the wrong direction.

The three friends halted their horses and looked at each other desolately.

“You go, I will find d’Artagnan and we will catch up to you,” Athos yelled over the sound of the rain. It was no use all three going after d’Artagnan, they still had a job to do and with luck they would catch up with the two of them in minutes.

Porthos and Aramis nodded in assent, though reluctantly, and took off which left Athos to find their absent friend. He nudged his horse in the direction he had seen d’Artagnan’s horse go. It did not take him long to spy the horse, but concern enveloped him when he saw that it was rider-less. d’Artagnan was nowhere to be seen.

Knowing that d’Artagnan could not have gone far, as he doubted he would have left, Athos jumped off his horse and scanned for the young Gascon, fear clenching his heart. He quickly discovered a boot sticking out from behind a bush and further inspection found d’Artagnan lying against a tree, eyes closed and face pale. Automatically dreading the worst, Athos knelt beside the Gascon and roughly checked for a pulse. He found one easily and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done had there been none.  

“d’Artagnan,” he shouted, but d’Artagnan did not wake. He tried again and the same result happened.

“Come on you stubborn Gascon,” Athos entreated. “Wake up.”

With lack of any other idea of what to do, Athos raised the boy slightly and gave him a rough shake, not so hard that it should do damage, but enough that he should hopefully wake. Fortunately, luck was on his side this one time and d’Artagnan slowly regained awareness with a pain filled groan.

“’Thos?” He muttered, squinting at the man.  “What happened. M’head hurts,” he asked.

“It looks like you fell of your horse,” Athos told him as quiet as he could so not to hurt d’Artagnan’s head any more. He was almost a hundred percent sure that the boy was concussed.

d’Artagnan looked beside Athos at his horse which was currently neighing and pounding the ground with its hoofs. It looked moments away from taking off again and this time Athos would not follow it. The first thing he was going to do when they got back to Paris was get d’Artagnan a new horse. This one could obviously not be trusted. d’Artagnan gave his horse a weak glare.

“I do not like Buttercup,” he announced, still glaring.

Athos gave d’Artagnan a strange look. Buttercup? Now that he mentioned it, the horse was an odd yellow colour. But that was inconsequential, what mattered was helping d’Artagnan.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Athos said, when it appeared d’Artagnan was waiting from a response from him. “Come, can you stand?”

Athos assisted d’Artagnan to standing and within seconds the Gascon was nearly toppling again which answered Athos’ question quite obviously. Athos made sure he had a tight hold on his friend, lest he fall into the mud which squelched under their feet, and led him towards his own horse. It took a bit of time, but eventually Athos managed to get d’Artagnan sat on the horse with himself sat behind, a tight hold around the boy’s midriff, pressing him close to his chest. He fit there quite nicely, but Athos was determined not to let his thoughts venture into such dangerous territory. He first had to make sure d’Artagnan was alright.

Athos quickly got them to a gallop, mentally trying to remember how far away the next inn was. Unfortunately, they had only just arrived into the forest when d’Artagnan’s horse had been spooked and so the next place they could rest was miles away and that was the same problem should he choose to turn back. d’Artagnan shivered against Athos and the man’s concern was growing as the gap between each shiver grew. He worried that should they remain any longer in the rain then not only would d’Artagnan be concussed, but he would become ill and with no access to a physician should they need one, Athos was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

With Athos’ primary goal switching from finding an inn to just any place of shelter from the rain, he hastily detected a spot in the forest completely covered by the leaves from the large trees that covered it. It wasn’t ideal, for trickles of rain still seeped through, but Athos was willing to use it for the simple fact that it was the best thing he’d seen so far. He stopped his horse just inside the small area and gently lifted d’Artagnan off his horse. The speed at which Athos had ridden meant that there had been too much jostling for d’Artagnan to fall asleep which was fortunate as until he was sure that d’Artagnan would wake again once he slept, Athos was determined to keep him conscious.

“I feel sick,” d’Artagnan complained as Athos settled him against a tree. In his wounded state, d’Artagnan was much more vocal and whiny, and though Athos didn’t mind, he still wondered how much of this trip d’Artagnan would remember. Head injuries were funny business and one would never be able to anticipate the effects of them.

“Well if you do feel like it, I would be most appreciative if you would turn your head. New boots you see,” Athos said, not actually serious. He couldn’t be mad at the boy in his current state for anything. It was not new to him that he had become to care for the boy more than would have been expected for him, something which had been pointed out by Aramis and Porthos numerous times and which he had ignored with his usual silence.

“Alright,” d’Artagnan promised. Athos got a fire started, which was no easy feat with the damp wood, and kept an eye on the boy to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. There were a couple of instances where his head dropped but a sharp call of his name had his head snapping up to attention.

“I promise I’ll wake up,” d’Artagnan muttered as he tried to convince Athos to let him sleep.

“I have no doubt you’ll try but I’d rather not take the risk,” Athos replied. The fire, which was now burning quite fiercely despite the rain, had begun to warm him however unlike he, d’Artagnan was still shivering. The fire did not seem to have much of an effect on him and Athos could not allow him to continue to freeze in his damp clothes.

Mind made up, Athos removed his soaked jacket and did the same to d’Artagnan who looked at him with exhausted perplexity. “What’re you doing?” He questioned and Athos did not reply until he had situated himself beside the Gascon, an arm placed around his shoulder, legs touching.

“You were still shivering. If that continued any longer you would get sick,” Athos explained, trying to pay no attention to how…right this felt. He shouldn’t be feeling such a way or thinking such things when d’Artagnan was ill but they arose regardless of his reluctance.

“Oh,” d’Artagnan said simply before leaning his head against Athos’ collar bone. Athos took a deep breath, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Remember, don’t fall asleep,” Athos reminded him, voice a bit gruffer than normal.

“Mm I won’t,” d’Artagnan said, but his murmured words suggested otherwise. “You’re warm.” He nuzzled slightly against Athos and the man barely repressed a groan. This boy would be the death of him.

“Yes, well, don’t get used to this.” Oh how he would like for them to get used to it, but it wasn’t proper. He knew d’Artagnan had feelings for Constance, it would be wrong for him to do anything to jeopardise that. He had ruined his own love life just fine, he didn’t have to do the same for d’Artagnan.

d’Artagnan ceased his shifting and settled against Athos’ chest, his warm breath lightly fanning him. “Why’re you doing this?” He asked after a moment’s silence in which Athos brooded.

“Doing what?” Athos questioned, moving his head to look down at the young man.

“…this, you know…,” d’Artagnan seemed to struggle finding the right words, a symptom from his injury no doubt, and Athos took pity on him.

“I am helping a friend in need,” he said, not dwelling on the fact that he probably would not….cuddle, for lack of a better word, Aramis or Porthos. He probably would have just moved them closer to the fire, but d’Artagnan did not need to know that.

“I guess,” d’Artagnan muttered and was it just his imagination or did d’Artagnan sound disappointed? Why he would, Athos had no idea. “You know, Porthos and Aramis have been saying things,” he carried on vaguely.

Athos looked at d’Artagnan inquisitively. “Aramis and Porthos say a lot of things; you’re going to need to be a bit more specific.”

“I heard some things, I don’t think I was supposed to,” he replied and his ambiguous answers were making Athos slightly nervous.

“And what was that?”

“Things about you…and me,” he mumbled against Athos’ chest. Fear clawed its way into Athos’ heart once more and he tried to shift away from d’Artagnan however the young man kept a surprisingly tight hold on him.  “They said you like me…”

Athos interrupted him. “Well of course I like you, you are my friend.”

“No,” d’Artagnan’s tone had taken one of childlike frustration, like a toddler who was struggling to make the adults understand what they meant. “They said that you like me more, like one looks at a...” d’Artagnan appeared as reluctant to say the word as Athos was to be in his position. Though he was mad at his friends, he knew he could not begrudge them too much as d’Artagnan himself had told them that he was not supposed to have over-heard. Nevertheless, he had and now d’Artagnan knew how he felt. How long for, he was not sure, and so he asked though his tongue felt thick as he spoke the words.

“How long?”

“A couple of weeks.”

A couple of weeks? d’Artagnan had known for that long and yet he had not said anything. He had acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Why did you not say anything?” Athos asked him, voice hoarse. He still tried to escape d’Artagnan however the young man was adamant not to let him go. Why, Athos did not want to consider. If he did he may give himself false hope.

“…I did not want to make you uncomfortable. There was…is the chance they were lying,” he replied.

Throughout the whole conversation d’Artagnan had kept his head firm against Athos’ chest but Athos was desperate to see d’Artagnan’s expression. His words were all said in the same, exhausted tone which gave nothing away. Right now, Athos could do one of two things. His first option was to lie and confirm that Aramis and Porthos were not correct. This would be the safer option, one that would keep d’Artagnan as a friend. The second option was to be truthful and express his feelings for the boy, one who had never before gave him an indication of feeling the same way, whom his confession may cause him to lose.  It might have been the relief that d’Artagnan was warming up, that his head injury did not seem critical, and the adrenaline that was still pumping through his body, but Athos did something he had sworn never to do.

“What would you do if I said they were not?” It wasn’t quite an admission, but d’Artagnan still finally raised his head, looking at Athos through slightly glazed eyes. Athos’ breath halted in his throat as he stared back. This was it.

“I would say good.”

Athos was sure he’d heard wrong.

“Good?” He repeated dumbly.

d’Artagnan nodded, though the movement made him wince, and before Athos could react further, pushed himself upwards and claimed Athos’ lips with his own with a ferocity that seemed out of place considering how tired he had been. Athos was unresponsive until he realised that this was not a fantasy, and he returned the kiss with as much fervour. Athos wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, he was too blissed out to think, but once it finished he rested his forehead against d’Artagnan’s who gave a smile.

“You were never going to say anything, were you?”

Athos shrugged. “I thought you liked Constance, I did not want to hinder your chances with her.”

d’Artagnan looked at Athos with a faintly disgusted expression. “Constance is like a sister. I have the utmost respect for her, but I do not see her in a romantic light.”

“And you see me in one?”

d’Artagnan gave a cheeky grin. The kiss, it seemed, had made him much less tired. “I hope you don’t think I go around kissing everyone.”

Athos gave his own grin. “Well…you have hit your head. You cannot blame me for thinking you might not be in your right mind.”

“Oh I assure you, I am very much in my right mind,” d’Artagnan said and leaned in for another kiss.

And so Athos spent the night kissing d’Artagnan. His excuse was that it was the best way to keep d’Artagnan awake even though he knew it would have been safe for him to sleep long ago. However, if d’Artagnan knew he was lying, he really, really did not care.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I cannot write a fic under 2000 words. Also, I wrote this fic without any slash, didn't like it and couldn't finish it, rewrote with some slash and did like it.


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